


By Violet and Bee Pollen

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: This Spell We Cast [13]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Day 25, Eye Contact, F/F, TWW Valentines LemonFest 2019, Touch, day 22, my kink is healthy supportive relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Sometimes, Ada's sadness at the past leaves her exhausted. Always, Hecate lends her strength.





	By Violet and Bee Pollen

**Author's Note:**

> While most of these stories aren't linked, this one specifically is the companion piece to By Watercress and Bloodroot. I like to think that both of these pieces are several years into the future in the universe of the Hackle Summer Trope Series. But you don't have to read all of those to understand this one.

“Miss Cackle?”

The gentle concern in Hecate Hardbroom’s tone, the way her voice lifts in lilting question, makes Ada realize that she must have been too quiet for too long. She’s watching Ada with cautious concern, standing on the other side of the desk, next to the wooden chair currently occupied by the misbehaving student du jour.

Ada offers her a small smile of reassurance. Hecate’s shoulders relax, just a little. Still, her eyes stay fixed on the blonde, noting every line in her face, every little nuance of her expression and her posture. Ada finishes doling out an appropriate penance (which Hecate will later say was much too soft, she knows) and dismisses the girl, who hurries out, relieved that Miss Cackle wasn’t nearly as furious as Miss Hardbroom had promised she would be.

The door closes, but Hecate stays rooted to the spot, hand gripping the back of the wooden chair as she silently watches Ada, who rubs her forehead with her fingers, sighing softly.

“You didn’t sleep last night.” Hecate’s voice quietly ripples across the silence. She doesn’t say why. She knows. Ada Cackle has always had a head for dates and anniversaries—and usually, it’s a good thing.

But not all anniversaries are happy affairs.

Today is the day that Agatha was sent to Wormwood’s. The day that Alma refused to come down from her office to see her daughter off, the day Ada cried into her sister’s shoulder as a scowling chaperone waited on her broom, ready to take another wayward witch to an academy that was more like a prison. The day that began weeks of Ada being inconsolable in her loss, unable to turn to anyone except her friend Mona, who still couldn’t fully empathize with her grief. The day she truly lost her other half.

“I’m sorry if I kept you awake, too,” Ada mumbles, tilting her forehead further into her own hand. Her whole body feels heavy, exhausted, raw. Some years are easier than others. This is not one of those years.

A single heel click fills the silence as Hecate takes a step forward. Her voice is lined with love, “I’d rather be awake, if it’s with you.”

Ada wants to look up, to offer a smile of agreement and reassurance. But it’s too much effort. And it’s barely after lunch. The day will go on forever, she knows.

Now Hecate is moving again, coming to stand in her usual place behind her, just over Ada’s left shoulder. Her hand is warm and comforting as it rubs circles into the space between Ada’s shoulder blades.

In the beginning, Hecate felt helpless in moments like this, utterly useless at aiding Ada in any way. Now she knows that simply being here is enough, that Ada is strong but sometimes she needs a place to rest and regain that strength. So she gently guides the blonde to turn in her seat, so that she can step between Ada’s knees and pull Ada’s head to the space below her ribs, running her fingers through Ada’s hair in slow, reassuring pulls.

Ada’s cheek feels the softness of Hecate’s belly through the thick brocade, feels cushioned and protected between the warmth of her body and the strength of her hands, which continue to brush through Ada’s hair in steady rhythm. She simply sighs, takes in the scent of Hecate’s perfume and the smells of her potions lab, lungs filling with a small measure of peacefulness.

After Agatha went to Wormwood’s, things were forever changed. As a young adult, Ada had found herself falling in and out of relationships, desperate to find the feeling of _matching_ again, that sense of cohesion that she’d lost. It took her so long to realize that no one could fill a space which only her self should occupy, and she swore off romance for a long time, focusing on loving herself and allowing herself to be a whole person, entirely on her own for the first time in her life. After that, she took lovers again, but she had no longer looked for the fullness she’d once dreamt of.

And then this woman had come along. This infuriating, pedantic, nothing-like-Agatha woman. Who somehow became a friend, despite their differing personalities. Who later, after so many agonizing years, became a lover. Who gave her back the feeling of completion, of matching, of belonging. Two sets of everything, all over again. A long-lost dream come true. Complements, not mirrors. The feeling of completion didn't come from Hecate herself, but rather by being entirely seen by Hecate, entirely understood, entirely loved.

“I’ll be fine,” Ada feels a need to reassure her lover.

“I know,” comes the simple reply, lined with absolute faith. Her tone melts with compassion as she delicately adds, “But it’s alright to not be fine, right now.”

Ada’s ear is still pressed against Hecate’s body, the words reverberating with deep resonance. She loves the sound of that voice. Her hands come up to squeeze Hecate’s hips, a small gesture of gratitude.

“Come,” Hecate leans down to place a single kiss atop Ada’s head. The blonde looks up, eyebrows quirking in confusion. “You’re playing hooky for the rest of the day, Miss Cackle.”

“But there’s still—”

“An entire academy of staff who are more than capable of handling a single afternoon,” Hecate finished for her, stepping back and offering a hand. “I’ll let them know that you will be unavailable until tomorrow. If anything dire occurs, you’ll be alerted.”

Ada merely nods, realizing that she’s not much use in her current state, anyways. She takes Hecate’s hand, lets the woman pull her to her feet. Hecate wraps her arms around Ada again, pressing her lips hard against Ada’s forehead and holding, taking a beat to inhale and exhale, the warmth of her breath washing over Ada with calming reassurance.

“Now,” Hecate steps back again, keeping her hands on Ada’s shoulders, never fully letting Ada out of her grasp. “To your rooms, Miss Cackle. I’ll handle the rest.”

* * *

 

Ada’s rooms feel colder than usual. She knows that’s just the day, too. She sinks into her bed, curling up atop the covers. She takes Hecate’s pillow, which smells of her shampoo, and nestles into it. She won’t sleep, she knows, but she can try to let her body rest, even if her mind won’t.

Except this seems worse, she thinks. At least her office is filled with distraction—paperwork, the sounds of girls running through the halls, the rotating appointments and staff dropping in for a quick word or a question. Here it’s just her and her thoughts, and she doesn’t find them particularly good company today.

A hand on her shoulder makes her jump.

“Sorry,” Hecate is leaning over her, grimacing apologetically.

“What are you doing?” Ada sits up, surprised to see her deputy headmistress standing at the edge of her bed ( _their_ bed now).

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Hecate seems slightly nervous, as if she fears making the wrong move. “Unless you want to be?”

Ada shakes her head. Her eyes fill with tears at the thought of Hecate coming to be with her—it’s ridiculous, she knows, because Hecate’s devotion has always been rather evident, but she’s exhausted and her emotions are becoming erratic.

Hecate smiles at her tears, gently removes Ada’s glasses and leans in to kiss each eyelid with light lips. She strokes Ada’s face, her tone soaked with love as she whispers, “You should try to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Ada admits. “I mean, I want to—but I can’t.”

Hecate surveys her for a beat, dark eyes calculating and weighing their options. She offers her hand to Ada again. “A hot shower, then.”

Ada agrees, takes the waiting hand, which she continues to hold as Hecate walks in front of her, hips swaying as she guides Ada into the bathroom. Hecate’s free hand is working, calling forth sprigs of calamint and spearmint to hang in the shower, starting the water, filling the room with a warming spell. She turns back to Ada with a soft smile, gingerly reaching forward to slip the sweater from Ada’s shoulders and transfer it back to Ada’s room.

Ada wants to say it’s too much, all this careful attention, but that would be a lie. She has worked so hard to be a fully independent person, but she can’t deny how much she needs Hecate in this moment, needs her help and her hands and her soft tokens of affection. Hecate’s fingers are delicately unfastening the buttons of Ada’s dress, taking her time to lean in and pepper kisses along Ada’s collarbone, to lightly trace the constellations of freckles on her skin.

“You’re coming in with me.” It isn’t a question, yet still not quite a command. Hecate hums in confirmation against Ada’s skin.

Once Ada’s undressed, Hecate removes her own clothing with a snap of her fingers, turning Ada towards the shower and offering one last hug, pressing her front into Ada’s back and placing a small kiss on Ada’s shoulder.

The water is almost too warm, but Ada relishes the heat on her skin, the pressure of the water bringing her back into her own body again. Hecate doesn’t take her hair down, but tendrils escape and plaster against her skin in whorls and arabesques. Her eyes are wide as she focuses on Ada, hands slipping over Ada’s body as if trying to assess her for physical damage.

The mint leaves become even more powerful under the heat, the glass doors misting over and creating a little world for just the two of them. Hecate doesn’t do anything improper, keeps her hands reassuring and tame, but even without her glasses, Ada can see all the ways those dark eyes still hunger, still devour images of her body with love and lust. And she loves the woman all the more for it, for how she thinks only of Ada in this moment, only wishes to comfort and reassure.

“May I?” Hecate’s hands are in Ada’s hair again, and Ada realizes what she’s asking. With a slight nod of agreement, Ada turns away, tilting her head back slightly so that Hecate has better access to shampoo her hair.

The strong, steady movements of Hecate’s fingers are meant to soothe and lull her to sleep, Ada knows, but she can’t deny the way her hips flutter with heat at the pressure. Before long, Hecate is turning her back again, leaning in to rinse away the suds, and Ada puts her hands on Hecate’s hips, relishing the feel of wet skin and the gentle brushes of Hecate’s breasts against hers as she moves. Hecate is fully focused on her task, the corners of her mouth downturned, as they often are when she’s truly concentrating, and Ada feels a bubble of love blossoming in her lungs. Once she’s fairly certain that Hecate’s nearly finished, she pulls the woman even closer, lets their bodies fully meet. Without hesitation, Hecate’s mouth is moving to meet hers, fingers tightening through Ada’s hair as the kiss deepens, her tongue pressing into Ada’s with reassuring strength.

Ada isn’t sure how even the woman’s kisses relay a sense of protection, but she relishes the feeling anyways as Hecate’s arms wrap around her shoulders, squeezing harder and making Ada feel completely wrapped up in love.

Hecate can feel the way Ada’s body shifts against hers, can feel the energy that wasn’t there before, the life and spark that is truly Ada. Her heart soars in joy. Ada always comes back to her, she knows, but it doesn’t make her miss the blonde any less during the moments of sad absence, the moments where Ada needs to simply sit with her darker emotions and let her past air itself instead of repressing and building the stress. Hecate understands, doesn’t begrudge the blonde doing what she needs to heal and survive, but oh, how she aches in the waiting, aches for Ada, aches at Ada’s pain, aches with so many different emotions that it nearly confounds her.

Ada’s lips are following the beads of water down Hecate’s neck, kisses turning to sucks, sucks turning to bites. Hecate’s fingers press into Ada’s flesh, encouraging her. Then the brunette is guiding her, moving her again to press against the glass side of the shower, the coolness of the pane a slight shock in comparison to the heat of the water. Hecate’s body is pressed against her, pressing into her as much as possible, until Ada can’t tell where her skin ends and Hecate’s begins. Hecate’s hands are firmly on the glass, arms so solid and protective that Ada thinks there isn’t a stronger fortress in the world. Hecate’s teeth are pulling at Ada’s bottom lip again, and Ada can still feel all the ways her lover holds back. Even in this moment, Hecate only gives exactly what Ada asks for, intent on simply being there for her.

“I love you,” the words are tumbling from Ada’s lips without any real thought at all, and she feels a secondary wash of joy at how true they are, at how her heart can speak before her brain even registers it.

The almost shy, breathless smile Hecate gives in response makes Ada’s stomach flip, just like it did in the uncertain and aching days before they realized this feeling was mutual.

“That’s a relief,” Hecate’s voice is soft, barely lined with teasing. “Since I happen to love you, too.”

Hecate’s head dips lower, placing another kiss on Ada’s neck to accentuate her point. “Very, very much.”

With a wave of her hand, Ada turns off the water. Hecate becomes very still, wide eyes watching Ada in curiosity. Ada gently takes Hecate’s wrist, guides her hand to the space between Ada’s thighs, already so warm and wanting. Hecate gives a small burble of delight, finger eagerly slipping further into Ada’s folds, pushing into Ada’s clit just enough to earn a gasp from the blonde.

“Tell me what you want, Ada,” Hecate’s voice is low, still heavy enough to vibrate against the glass and tile, her breath hitching at Ada’s name, the desire to love as deep as the desire to comfort.

“I want to forget,” Ada admits softly. “Just for a little while.”

Hecate hums in understanding. By now, they have their own lexicon, their own meanings behind the words used by the rest of the world, something secret and sacred and simply theirs. Ada tries not to think of how she once had this with her sister, in an entirely different way.

_Forgetting_ , in this context, is being overwhelmed with so many sensations that Ada’s brain can’t think beyond the exact moment, beyond the electric feel of Hecate’s touch and the crashing, pounding need of her own body. And Ada knows that Hecate can give her this, has been given this so many times now that she can ask with absolute faith that she’ll get what she needs, in this moment.

Ada doesn’t seem completely exhausted anymore, Hecate notices, but now the blonde is thrumming with odd energy, still needing some kind of break from her own life. Hecate can provide distraction, she knows, and her heart swells at the thought that Ada trusts her to do just that. Of all the ways she yearns, of all the things she craves from Ada Cackle, that sense of trust is perhaps her greatest longing, her deepest desire. She must be better than she sees herself, to have earned Ada’s confidence so deeply. She must be good, and worthy, and redeemable—all the things she wants Ada to remember about herself, now and always.

Ada simply watches the flitting micro-expressions on Hecate’s face, knowing her lover’s mind is whirring with possibilities and past scenarios, trying to build something new, some different experience to distract and delight. Her chest tightens in a mixture of adoration and anticipation.

Hecate suddenly gives a curt nod of self-approval, then opens her palm to call Ada’s glasses into them.

“You’ll need these,” Hecate’s voice is warm with certainty. Ada dons her glasses and Hecate gives a flourish with her arms.

Every side of the shower is now a mirror. Ada tilts her head slightly, the angle giving her a glimpse around Hecate’s shoulder to the mirror behind her, where a rather lovely view of Hecate’s ass awaits. Hecate’s amused hum implies that she had expected as much from the blonde.

But the lovely view is gone when Hecate steps closer again, index finger crooking under Ada’s chin to direct her gaze back to Hecate’s. Those dark eyes are glittering and Ada knows that whatever comes next, she’s truly not ready for it, in the best of ways.

Hecate leans in for one more kiss, hot and insistent, as if it’s the last time she’ll ever taste Ada’s lips again. Then before Ada can fully recover, she pulls back, taking Ada’s shoulders and firmly whirling her around.

Ada’s hands automatically smack on the mirrored pane, trying to keep her balance. Hecate’s hum of approval implies that was exactly how she wanted her, so Ada keeps her hands planted. She gets the feeling that she’ll need all the help she can get staying upright, anyways.

Ada tries to tilt her head, to get a better view of Hecate behind her, but Hecate’s slipping lower, crouching to gently guide Ada’s feet wider apart. Her hands stay on Ada’s ankles longer than necessary, warm and weighted, truly grounding Ada. _Here, stay here, mind and body, don’t think beyond this, here, stay, stay with me._

Hecate leans in, placing a long, staying kiss on the soft skin at the back of Ada’s left knee. Her dark eyes flick up, meeting Ada’s in the reflection. Ada feels her heart jolt at the electricity in that simple look, the dark promise of all the things to come.

Ada is so trapped by those eyes that she doesn’t notice anything else—she feels a twittering ripple of surprise at the sudden warmth of Hecate’s right hand, slipping up her thigh, fingertips lightly brushing through the curls at her center, trilling just enough to be felt, to tease, to taunt, to pull the heat through Ada’s hips with such force that she could melt, then and there.

Hecate’s hand retreats. She settles onto the balls of her feet more solidly, one hand on each of Ada’s knees for further steadiness as her mouth moves up Ada’s left leg, leaving single, solid kisses in its wake. She’s no longer looking at Ada, well aware that she has the blonde’s full attention. She sinks to her knees, using them to push herself up. Her teeth come out at the curve of Ada’s ass, a quick, sharp bite that makes the blonde jump. Hecate hums at the movement, obviously pleased with herself. That smugness only intensifies the wet heat between Ada’s thighs—she loves every nuance of this woman, but oh, Hecate on the hunt is her most electrifyingly erotic favorite.

The huntress’ right hand is slipping up, squeezing the side of Ada’s hip before slipping back to grab Ada’s right cheek, nails pressing in just enough to be felt. There’s still so much restraint in the gesture, so much strength Ada can feel thrumming just beneath the surface—the force of Hecate’s desire for her, fueled by so much love, is always overwhelming.

Hecate’s face is hidden from her, but Ada takes in what she can see—Hecate’s naked body, in the space between her own legs, the tightness she can see in Hecate’s ribcage, the tautness of her nipples, the delicious dark patch visible when she widens her knees and all the wonderful things Ada imagines happening there right now.

Hecate is rising to her feet again, hands slipping around Ada’s stomach, snaking up to knead her breasts. Her chin is on Ada’s right shoulder, eyes finding Ada’s again in the mirrored reflection. She keeps eye contact, tilting her head as her left hand comes back to sweep Ada’s hair out of the way—she moves forward, taking Ada’s earlobe between her teeth, just enough pressure to be felt. Her breath is hot against Ada’s skin, hotter than the shower had ever been, and Ada shivers in response. Hecate’s teeth keep their hold, but her lips hook up into a wicked grin, fully aware of all the ways she’s affecting the blonde.

She breaks eye contact finally, half-closing her eyes as her tongue comes out to play, teasing Ada’s earlobe, lips sucking as her fingers roll Ada’s nipples, massaging and pulling to mimic the movements on her mouth. Despite her lips being very much occupied, somehow her smile is still evident, in her happy hums, the deepening creases around her eyes. Ada’s thighs tremble, fire crackling across her breasts, taking all the air from her lungs. She’s mesmerized by the sight before her—Hecate’s pale hands on her own flushed skin, Hecate’s nose nuzzling against her ear, the tension humming through every line of both their bodies, how hopelessly strung out she already looks, knowing full well that Hecate has only just begun.

Hecate strokes down Ada’s torso, burying her face into Ada’s shoulder as she grabs the blonde’s hips and presses her body into Ada’s again with a suppressed sound of delight and frustration. That inhuman noise relays all that she feels, in this moment—her adoration for all the she’s touching, how much more she wants it, wants Ada, how overcome she is with her want and her need in this moment.

Teeth come out again, this time on the curve of Ada’s shoulder. As always, it’s never too harsh, never more than just enough to let Ada know how much she wants her, how feral Ada makes her, how deep her love runs and how much she yearns to express it fully.

When Hecate slowly raises her gaze over Ada’s shoulder again, all drama and desire, Ada knows she’s still not ready for the deluge that’s coming, the wave already surging and curving towards her, ready to drown out everything else.

The fingers of Hecate’s right hand trill against Ada’s hipbone.

“Watch me,” she quietly commands, her voice little more than a rasp. Ada’s gaze travels lower down the mirror’s pane, to hips still red from insistent hands, to the jet black nails that are magically shorter. Ada’s core clenches in anticipation. Those fingers move, in slow, easy loops across Ada’s skin, curving back up to her stomach, further down the line to her curls, lightly trilling and meandering as if they didn’t have a target at all.

There’s something about both feeling the touch and watching it, seeing it as if it is someone else’s body entirely, that only intensifies the sensation. Hecate’s lips are still so close to her ear, her breaths coming so quick and heavy that Ada knows it’s taking great effort for Hecate to slow herself down like this, to draw out the moment and tease Ada further. Part of her wants to look up, to watch Hecate’s face, but she also equally captured by her desire to watch those expressive fingers, that hand that she loves so much, the slow and scintillating journey further down.

Hecate delicately lets her hand cup Ada’s center, just letting the heat of her palm simmer against skin that’s already buzzing with heightened sensitivity. Ada watches the ripple of Hecate’s knuckles, feels the press of a single finger gingerly slipping through the wet heat of her folds, curling to rest against Ada’s clit.

“Are you watching?” Hecate’s voice is hot, lined with knowing. Ada nods thickly, throat far too tight for a verbal response.

A single, hard push of Hecate’s finger sends Ada’s hips rolling forward, the moan slipping involuntarily from her tight lungs. Ada closes her eyes for a brief second, but her lover reminds her, “Eyes open, Ada. _Watch_.”

Hecate’s body is pressing into Ada as much as possible, that simple contact enough to send electricity sparking across her skin. Her left hand is roving, nails dragging up Ada’s side, slipping under her breast, fingers pressing into the achingly tight flesh as her right hand continues, her finger setting an easy stroking pace.

Ada’s toes are pressing into the tile, shoulders tightening as she pushes back against the mirror, desperately trying to keep her eyes open, to keep watching the rhythm of that delightful, wonderful, wonderful hand between her legs, trying not to completely devolve under the sensations that hand is producing, the feelings rippling up her sides and shivering down her spine.

Another shock rolls through her body at the heat of Hecate’s mouth on her neck, a hard, sharp suck pulling more fire from her hips and out of her lungs in a long, low moan.

“Ada,” Hecate’s tone is teasing, dancing with delight. Ada understands the warning— _you’re not watching, watch me touch you, open your eyes and watch me fuck you._ Hecate is amused at how easily she’s got Ada’s number in this moment, so obviously pleased with herself and her abilities. Heaven save her, Ada can’t help but find the smugness erotic.

It’s hard to keep her eyes open when her body’s natural response is to close them, to squeeze tight under the waves of sensation rolling through her veins—but it’s harder still to keep them trained on one spot, when there are so many other delights to see. Like the flash of Hecate’s teeth when she grins, tongue slipping out to trace the line of Ada’s neck, the crowsfeet around her dancing eyes filled with delight. Or the sheen on her black nails as her left hand’s fingers flex and press into Ada’s breast, leaving hungry red marks in their wake. Or the way Hecate’s eyes flick up to meet her gaze through the mirror, glittering and filled with heart-stopping certainty, so fully aware of exactly what she’s doing to Ada, so eager to do more.

Hecate has a small measure of mercy, perhaps pity for the rosy-cheeked blonde, whose whole body is so tense, so close to the edge. She grins again, this time more devoted than feral, shifting so that her chin merely rests on Ada’s shoulder once more, never breaking eye contact as her left hand slips behind Ada, coming up to sink her fingers into Ada’s hair, lightly pulling the blonde locks just enough to be felt.

Ada feels completely held in that moment—Hecate’s body against her back, Hecate’s right arm firmly wrapping around her, Hecate’s hand holding her center, each stroke pulling her back into Hecate, closer to the sturdiness of her frame, Hecate’s left hand grasping Ada’s hair, keeping her upright and in place, Hecate’s chin on her shoulder, doing the same. Hecate, Hecate, Hecate, everywhere and all around her, laying her bare and hiding her from the rest of the world, at the same time.

“Look at you,” Hecate whispers, though it’s her own eyes following her command, raking down Ada’s body with unmistakable desire. Ada watches her, watching her own hand push Ada further towards the edge, sees the hunger and the wonder in her expression, the breathless delight Hecate finds in loving her. Ada’s lungs collapse further, she thinks she shouldn’t be able to breathe at all but somehow she does, breathing and moaning as the waves in her hips roil and push, the pull between each one building as Hecate’s finger keeps its steady pace.

Ada’s skin has always been delightfully responsive, Hecate knows from years of exhaustive and fulfilling research. But the heat of the shower has made it even more visually reactive, still sparkling with moisture, still red and raw in the places that Hecate’s hands have gripped and squeezed, the spots tested with her teeth and fingertips, the territories were Ada’s desire is always plainly shown through flushed skin and taut muscles. In moments like this, it’s almost overwhelming, how desperately she needs to have every inch of this woman.

Hecate’s grip in Ada’s hair tightens and Ada feels her body tense in response as well. She’s already taut as a bowstring, so close to ricocheting into space under the attentions of Hecate’s hand, which is now pushing harder, rolling into her clit with unwavering determination.

Now Hecate’s gaze is back on Ada’s face, eyes locking as she gives another slight pull at Ada’s hair. She isn’t grinning wickedly anymore, isn’t leaving trails of kisses or even bites in her wake. She’s simply watching Ada, patient and eager, highly aware of just how close Ada is to shattering completely and ready to witness the moment. In this moment, the unguarded look of love in Hecate’s expression is Ada’s final straw, the final tip into a fluttering flurry of clenching lungs and pounding wet thighs, Ada’s ears ringing with the sound of her own voice reverberating between the panes, so loud that it seems like it could shatter the whole world around them. Hecate is making little sounds of delighted approval, keeping Ada upright but releasing her grip on Ada’s hair, letting her head dip forward as the final waves roll up from her hips, straight to her heart. Her kisses are light and feverish on Ada’s shoulder, silent little _good girl_ s _, wonderful darling_ s _, I love you so_ s, over and over again.

Before Ada can fully recover, Hecate’s guiding her again, turning her back around and pressing her into the mirror pane. Hecate’s hand rests at the place just below Ada’s ribcage, and Ada can feel her muscles slipping into a steadying spell. She had guessed as much was coming—Hecate takes requests to forget very seriously, an extremely thorough executor in her fulfillment. Hecate takes a beat to make eye contact with Ada again, silently making sure she’s still with her, still wanting this. Ada’s mouth quirks into a one-sided grin and Hecate flushes with relief. She leans in to give Ada a quick peck on the lips before slipping down.

The steadying spell will hold, but Ada still feels too unstable to lean forward and fully watch Hecate—but with every wall being turned into a mirror, she was can spare her neck and simply watch from a different angle in the mirror across from her.

Past experience has taught Hecate to call forth a rolled up towel as cushioning for her knees—she plans on being here for awhile and she’d prefer being able to stand afterwards without feeling as if someone’s taken a hatchet to her joints. She wings a quick spell across the towel’s surface, making it slightly more cushiony before setting on the tile floor. Then she sinks fully to her knees, finally magicking her hair down from its bun so that Ada has free reign to pull and stroke as she pleases (that’s something past experience has taught her as well). Ada’s small burble of delight at this action only intensifies the fire in her hips. With eager hands she pushes Ada’s thighs wider apart, senses already spinning at Ada's scent mixing with the heaviness of the mint from their shower. She dives into Ada, arching her neck and burrowing to push her tongue into the center of that wet heat, letting out a long, low moan that she knows Ada can feel reverberating in her core, feeling a measure of pride at how Ada reacts with shaking and moaning of her own.

Ada has a hand in Hecate’s hair, encouraging her to continue. Hecate keeps away from Ada's clit, knowing she’s far too sensitive for any contact there just yet. Instead she simply enjoys the fruits of her own labor, tracing around Ada’s entrance and making small sounds of approval for the taste and texture waiting there. Ada keeps rocking her hips forward, so Hecate fortifies her steadying spell on Ada’s hips and gently starts to guide Ada’s left knee to her right shoulder. She feels Ada’s hand retreat from her hair, hears the sounds of Ada bracing herself against the mirror, and with a smile, she turns her head and wings a light kiss against Ada’s inner thigh ( _yes, you’d best brace yourself, love, because we’re far from done_ ).

This time, she lets the tip of her tongue find that bundle of nerves, fully prepared for the way Ada’s hips buck in response. Ada’s already shaking again, her thigh taut against Hecate’s cheek. The brunette hums in approval and keeps her tongue light, licks and flicks that cause quick shoots of fire and tension while steadily building the heat in Ada’s hips once more.

Ada has to remind herself to keep her eyes open, to look across at the scene reflecting back at her. And oh, what a lovely scene it is—the tips of Hecate’s adorable toes, which daintily curl whenever she feels a particularly overwhelming sensation (that Ada gives her, that the taste of Ada gives her, that the sound and scent of Ada give her—that thought alone pushes more heat through Ada’s veins), the pale curve of her ass and the long, loose waves of jet-black hair swaying above it. Hecate’s skin is wet from the shower and the sweat of her endeavors, wisps of hair stick to her here and there, a wonderful messy thing, a little reminder that even though she’s in control of this situation, Ada has her simmering, ready to lose it all at the slightest touch (and yes there’s something mind-blowingly good about knowing you can turn control into chaos, Ada knows, especially when its name is Hecate Hardbroom). Ada watches the way Hecate’s head moves, each movement the source of another flash of tension and desire in her body. She watches the way her own calf muscle tightens, outlined by the darkness of Hecate’s hair behind it, the way Hecate’s hands grip her hips with relish and reassurance, black nails pressing into reddened flesh. She’s a glorious mess herself, and she finds delight in seeing that she looks exactly as she feels, and that Hecate can see this too, can truly see how much Ada is affected by her, how much Ada loves her, how much Ada wants her.

Hecate’s right hand starts moving, dragging against Ada’s skin with theatrical slowness. Ada can hear herself whining, fully aware of what’s going to happen next and eager for it to happen _now_. Even with Hecate’s mouth latched onto her clit, Ada can feel the brunette’s smile at her sounds. In the reflection, Ada watches Hecate’s hand, the way it pulls back and gives the side of Ada’s ass a quick, sharp smack—the blonde wasn’t expecting that but she gives a small growl of approval. Hecate’s hand is rubbing the spot it hit with quick, small circles, keeping the skin hot and tight. Then she drags her fingers across the space, nails leaving blooming ripples of deeper heat in their wake.

And then her hand continues down the path that Ada had anticipated—under Ada’s hip, across the back of her thigh, fingertips fluttering at Ada’s center, cautiously testing before slipping two fingers inside. Ada gives a low moan of relief, knowing Hecate can feel the way she quivers and clenches around Hecate’s fingers in response. Hecate’s tongue slows its pace, matching the easy, steady strokes of her hand.

The tension is still there, but the pounding fire stops its upward spiral, hovering and holding. Ada takes a few deep breaths, knowing soon she won’t be able to do more than pant and scream. Hecate will keep her here, like an acrobat on a tightrope, for as long as possible, pushing Ada to feel almost transcendental.

Ada shifts her gaze to actually look down at the dark head knit so happily against her, heart swelling again. It never really came as any surprise to learn that Hecate Hardbroom’s overachieving ways also extended to the bedroom ( _or shower, or potions storeroom, or occasional supply closet, or…_ ) but the delight they produce never lessens, either.

Ada Cackle is loved. Oh so loved. So deeply and so completely loved.

And she is complete, she realizes. Yes, there is still all the pain of the past, still the days and dates that would bring sad memories and feelings of doubt—but she has this woman and her love, so she must have done something right, must have made enough good decisions to be given this gift, this gift she’s earned and endeavored to keep through her own devotion and careful attentions.

She trusts Hecate, more than anyone. And when Hecate says that she is good, that she has done the right thing, she feels the small beginnings of belief. Sometimes that feeling is stronger, sometimes it is weaker. But Hecate’s conviction always makes up for the lack of her own, on those weaker days.

_People can’t be saved_ , Hecate had once quietly told her, on this date many years ago. _You can provide them the chance to save themselves, but ultimately, it is their choice, and theirs alone._

She had kissed Ada’s forehead then, had softly added, _You were a child then, Ada. You were not responsible for those choices. But when you grew up, you gave her as many chances as you could. More than anyone else ever would, Ada, and that’s why I love you so_. _Your strength to continue seeing the good in everything and everyone is overwhelming._

Strength. Hecate sees Ada’s kindness as strength. Not weakness, not flaw of character, not naivete or stupidity. Strength. Admirable, overwhelming, unshakeable _strength_.

While Hecate’s current efforts are beyond engaging, Ada is certain the surge in her hips is from an entirely emotional source. She feels Hecate’s left hand adjust its grip on her hip, feels the way Hecate responds to the sudden tension in Ada’s body—fingers curling inside Ada to hit the spot that makes her lungs catch as lips suck at Ada’s clit, tongue coming out to push with harder intent.

Ada can feel the tidal wave rising through her body, already shaking and moaning as Hecate pushes her harder. Her muscles are so strained that she feels she might explode entirely, her lungs too tight to take a proper breath and her skin burning with the need for release.

She looks over at their reflection one last time, letting a hand come down to bury into Hecate’s hair again, fingers flexing and pulling at the dark locks hard enough to make Hecate whimper against her in needy delight, the sound only increasing the agonizing heat pounding through her. Her whole body feels raw and aching, the air too thick and her head too light to do anything but hold on for dear life, knee tightening around Hecate’s shoulder as her free hand presses into the glass pane, finding little purchase on the slick surface.

The tile and panes reverberate with her cry, high-pitched and desperate as she arches into Hecate, feeling safe and steady in the grip of her magic. She shudders, entire world tumbling around her, leaving nothing but the feeling of Hecate’s fingers inside her and Hecate’s hot tongue on her, a pointed spark in a moment of combustion.

Hecate feels like the lone survivor in a hurricane, swept and tumbled about by Ada’s reactions, her own body quivering with every cry, every move that Ada makes. Ada’s leg is tight around her, Ada’s grip firmly on her hair, Ada’s scent and taste still overwhelming her like a drug, Ada’s core clenching around her fingers, Ada’s hip pressing against her other hand, her whole body shuddering around Hecate with the most delicious sounds. Hecate stays there, just a few moments more, lets Ada completely melt before removing her fingers and cleaning each one with her tongue, delighted at how soaked they are, how deeply she’s rocked her lover, quite literally to the core. She gently slides Ada’s knee off her shoulder, gingerly rolling back onto her heels and feeling a small pull in her knees (the towel can only do so much, at her age, she thinks grimly). She rises to her full height, not bothering to hide her self-satisfied smile as she views the effects of her handiwork.

She thinks Ada will have no trouble drifting to sleep now.

And she’s right—Ada’s already taking long, slow blinks, barely standing, thanks to Hecate’s steadying spell. The younger witch removes the spell, stepping closer to take its place by pulling Ada into her arms and placing a kiss on the blonde’s temple.

“Bed?” She suggests. Ada merely hums in agreement. Hecate casts a few quick spells to clean them both up again, then transfers to Ada’s bedside. She turns to the wardrobe, intent on dressing Ada by hand, but Ada’s hand pulls at her wrist, stops her.

“Let’s just get in,” the blonde says quietly. Hecate smiles at the idea. Ada’s glasses go to the bedside table and Hecate slides under the sheets, holding them open for Ada. They curl up together, skin warming skin, and Hecate feels another flash of victory a few minutes later when she hears the shift in Ada’s breathing, knowing she’s finally asleep.

She leans in, placing the tiniest of kisses on the curve of Ada’s shoulder, which rises out of the covers like the moon. Then, burrowing her forehead into the back of Ada’s neck, she happily slips into slumber herself—though just before, she casts one last spell. A wish for only soft and pleasant dreams, for the woman in her arms. Her friend, her partner, her inspiration to be her best self, her strength and her heart’s greatest desire, her lover, her joy, her Ada.


End file.
